Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from South Africa and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Thee Headcoats to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Ludus. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rod Modell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Lydon,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Deakin,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Invisible,
Livin' Joy,
the Bar-Kays,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Techniques,
Scientists,
DJ Sneak,
Sam Rivers,
Television,
Stetsasonic,
Blake Baxter,
Maleditus Sound,
CMW,
Rufus Thomas,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Crispy Ambulance,
Albert Ayler,
Nick Fraelich,
Alphaville,
Severed Heads,
David McCallum,
Black Flag,
The Litter,
Swans,
Lightning Bolt,
Camouflage,
X-Ray Spex,
Bush Tetras,
T.S.O.L.,
Matthew Bourne,
Harmonia,
Desert Stars,
Darondo,
Sight & Sound,
The Neon Judgement,
The Moleskins,
The Durutti Column,
The Beau Brummels,
The Mummies,
Unwound,
Fugazi,
Mo-Dettes,
Con Funk Shun,
Monolake,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Sällskapet,
Dennis Brown,
Juan Atkins,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
New Age Steppers,
Ponytail,
Danielle Patucci,
Joy Division,
Crispian St. Peters,
Moss Icon,
The Real Kids,
Royal Trux,
Neu!,
Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.